


MONONOKE

by JawsThatBite



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JawsThatBite/pseuds/JawsThatBite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lands are at war. Men, driven by greed, seek to expand and crush anything in their path. The ancient gods of the forests are dying out, and those that remain struggle to protect what is theirs. But they are losing, and hatred and death has bred demons within them.</p><p>In a land far to the east, Stiles, a prince of a fading race, encounters one of these demons, and his fate is altered forever. Forced to leave behind everything he's ever known, he must now seek out the source of the conflict, overcome demons, both the world's, and his own, or die trying.</p><p>Based on the movie Princess Mononoke. Inspired by art from <a href="http://misslucid.tumblr.com/">misslucid</a> .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Woman and the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by art from the talented [misslucid](http://misslucid.tumblr.com/), this story is based on the Princess Mononoke film, however by no means does it follow the movie to the letter. Many events and characters have been changed or cut due to trying to write this story in a way that would suit such a bizarre fusion. A lot of things are different and new material will be added, so please, if you know the movie, read with an open mind. Rating of this story might also be subject to change down the road, but we'll see. Enjoy!

It was hot.

 

It was _burning_. Flames licked at his pelt, embers stung his eyes, but his body kept moving, kept pushing. The smoke and the heat felt like it was smothering him, but he couldn't slow. A spear jabbed at his side, and he turned his head to bite it clean in half, before swiping his massive tail to send its wielder flying.

 

He had to catch up. So many had been lost, he couldn't lose anyone else!

 

Ahead, in the distance, he could see the black coat of his kin, and past that, _her_. Her eyes were gleaming with a crazed light, a malicious smile twisted across her face. Waves of gold hair blew in the wind, and her lips parted, her tongue swiping over them hungrily.

 

"Come on..." he heard her whisper. She planted her spear into the ground in challenge. "COME ON!!!"

 

The black wolf roared and headed for her, and he hastened to catch him.

 

"Wait!!" he cried, "It's a trap!!"

 

But the other didn't listen, charging forward. He clenched his teeth, legs pumping, when he caught her scent. His head jerked, eyes darting around, and there he saw her, her dark hair pouring out from the hood of her cloak, just as her hands let loose an arrow. It flashed in the light and sunk just between his neck and shoulder, even as he pulled back to keep it from sinking deeper.

 

He let loose a snarl, wanting to go after her, to crush her head in his teeth, but he didn't have time. Instead, he grabbed an nearby ox, overturned in the initial attack and still struggling against its harness, and pulled, ripping its binds with his claws, before he flung it as hard as he could where he could see her. Her eyes widened and she scrambled out of the way as its carcass crashed where she'd hidden. He didn't wait to see if it hit her.

 

Ahead the sounds of battle were louder, as men flung their weapons at the black wolf charging them, who in turn was biting, clawing, breaking them and flinging them all directions.

 

He felt like he would never reach him, even as he attacked the men who had noticed his coming and turned their attention to him. He heard a sharp sound, the snap of a flint, and startled, looking to see the woman holding a rifle, aimed at...

 

His heart raced.

 

"LOOK OUT!!!"

 

The other wolf lifted its head to the danger just as the shot went off, catching him under his massive neck, square in the breast.

 

 _No_.

 

Frantic, he violently snapped at his attackers, severing limbs and spraying blood, shaking his large form and knocking them away. Ahead, the black wolf staggered, but his eyes remained fixed on the bitch who had shot him, eyes wild with fury. He inhaled briefly, and leapt.

 

The woman's face blanked with shock as the black wolf descended on her, catching her throat and entire upper torso in his teeth, crushing, blood flying. He himself found his dash halted, listening to her dying gasps and the shouts of her men. The black wolf's ear flickered, and he turned his head just enough to look back over his shoulder and meet his eyes.

 

Then the cliff face gave, and wolf and woman fell into the abyss.

 

" _PETER!!!!!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter down. Well, prologue. Please note that I do not have a beta. If you see errors, let me know! Also, if you have questions along the story about certain events, characters, or history, feel free to ask. If you're confused, you can't enjoy the story as much, can you?


	2. Gods and Demons

_'In ancient times, the land lay covered in forests, where, from ages long past, dwelt the spirits of the gods._

_Back then, man and beast lived in harmony, but as time when by, most of the great forests were destroyed. Those that remained were guarded by gigantic beasts, who owed their allegiance to the Great Forest Spirit._

_For those were the days of gods, and of demons...'_

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

" _Stiles_."

 

"Stiles."

 

"STILES."

 

Stiles jerked awake, a movement that sent his arm swinging out, knocking over the items scattered about the small table he'd been resting his elbow on. Heart pounding, he managed to grab them before they fell, but the shift in his legs sent the book resting in his lap to the floor. Calming himself, he looked up to see the Wise Man smiling at him.

 

He sighed. "Don't do that. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

 

"I didn't realize my lessons were so boring they put you to sleep," Deaton grinned mischievously.

 

"What? No, of course not. Just the sun."

 

The man nodded, stepping into the room. "Mm. Good weather we're having."

 

Good weather indeed. Warm, with a faint breeze, just perfect for a short nap. Yawning, he reached down and picked up the book by his feet.

 

"Ah," Deaton smiled, "I see. Reading the old legends again."

 

Stiles returned it a little, waving the book vaguely. Its cover was worn and faded, and within, the pages were crinkled from use. "What can I say? It never gets old. The ancient beast gods, the lands they ruled...maybe I haven't yet reached that age where I'm tired of fairy tales."

 

He'd spent many a day when he was little reading it, imagining the gods of old, the beasts of the forests. How his father had often had to chase him from his room to do chores and go out to the fields. He smiled a little at the memories.

 

"Fairy tales?" Deaton echoed, raising an eyebrow, "You know better."

 

"I do. My father just always says I have more important things to focus on then old stories."

 

"Perhaps, but he knows them to be true, like you. Like I. How is he, by the way."

 

"Same as always," he sighed, waving the book in hand, "Dogging my steps, giving me advice. I think he actually believes I'll be a good leader. It took me long enough to convince him."

 

Deaton laughed quietly. "We all knew you had great things in you, Stiles. What form they'll take though is yet to be seen."

 

Stiles hmmed, resting the book again in his lap, and peering out the window, watching the villagers go about their day, past them to the fields and forest beyond. "Great things huh?" he murmured, "I wonder. When I read the legends of how things were before, I can't help myself. All of it was so...grand. The sprawling forests, the gods that guard them...it makes me feel so insignificant by comparison."

 

"Nothing is insignificant, Stiles. It is a lesson many humans have forgotten, in their search for fulfillment. Greed and power is what destroyed the great forests of the past, when humans forgot to respect them."

 

"What do you think happened to the god of this land?"

 

Deaton chuckled. "I don't know everything, Stiles. Perhaps the god passed on. Perhaps there never was one. This place is far beyond the reach of most, which is why we are able to live here quietly, where no one knows. Whatever happened, we are now the guardians of this land, and we must protect it."

 

"Yes."

 

"Now," he tapped a hand to the books nearby, "back to our lesson?"

 

*         *         *         *         *         *

 

_Burning._

_Everything was burning._

_Hate. Hate. Hate hate hate hate hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate..._

_Kill. Kill them. Kill them all. Humans. Kill the humans! Kill the humans!!_

_HATE!!!_

 

*         *         *         *         *         *

 

Deaton jerked his head up. Stiles, who had been writing across from him, startled, but Deaton ignored him. He moved to the window, eyes narrowing as he looked out.

 

Stiles rose, concerned. "What's the matter?"

 

"Something's wrong," Deaton spoke, looking grim, "Something is happening. Stiles, you need to go. Tell everyone to stay in the village and ready themselves for trouble, and fetch anyone in the fields. I feel an ill omen."

 

He frowned, confused, but nodded. "Alright."

 

"Hurry, be quick!"

 

He bowed swiftly before running out, not even wasting time to descend the steps as he took them by leaps until he hit the ground. He ran back towards his home, heart pounding as he wondered what could have spooked the Wise Man. All he knew was it didn't bode well for any of them.

 

He darted inside his house, grabbing his blade and securing it to his side, then snatching his quiver and slinging it across his back before reaching for his bow. Once equipped, he headed back outside and to the pasture nearby.

 

Yakul was resting, already saddled for their run later in the day. He whistled and the elk lifted his head to him, quickly rising to his feet and trotting over. Stiles patted his muzzle.

 

"Guess we're getting an early start today, hm?"

 

Yakul nudged him, and he grabbed one of his horns and swung himself up.

 

"Let's go," he said, leading the way.

 

As he passed through the town, heading toward the fields, he spotted his father, who heard his coming and turned to him, frowning.

 

"Stiles, what are you doing? Is your lesson over?"

 

"Something's wrong, dad. The Wise Man says something bad is coming. Tell the villagers to prepare themselves. I'm going to makes sure everyone knows to come back, and alert any stragglers."

 

His father's eyes widened and he nodded, looking concerned. "Alright, I'll take care of things here. You'd better go see Ji-san as well, check if he knows or has seen anything."

 

"Right." He nudged Yakul and they took off.

 

Fortunately, not many villagers were in the fields, and he quickly gathered them over and directed them back.

 

"Some of the girls were heading toward the forest," a woman spoke up, "You'd best find them quickly."

 

"I will."

 

He watched them hurry back for a moment before progressing down the path. His mind was racing, and he tried to settle his thoughts. He too was starting to feel something ominous.

 

"Stiles!"

 

He looked up and was relieved to see some of the village girls running towards him. Thank goodness, that made that easier.

 

"Girls!" he shouted, pulling to a stop beside them.

 

"Stiles, what's going on?" one asked.

 

"You have to hurry. The Wise Man wants everyone back to the village immediately."

 

"We just came from Ji-san," another said.

 

"You did? Did he see something?"

 

"Yes, in the forest, something's wrong. All the birds and animals have gone."

 

"Okay, I'll go to the watchtower and check in with him. You three head home and don't dawdle."

 

"Alright," they chimed, and parted ways. "Be careful, Stiles!"

 

Before long the watchtower came into view, and he snagged the ladder, hauling himself from Yakul and climbing up. When he reach the next segment, something caught his attention and he paused, gazing into the trees. Somewhere past the stone fence he could see movement. He leaned forward, but was unable to get a good look.

 

"Something's there..." he murmured. He shook himself and continued.

 

Once he reached the top, he came to stand by Ji-san's side, touching his shoulder briefly and looking back to where he'd seen something.

 

"Ji-san, did you see it?" he asked.

 

"I did," the old man confirmed, face pinched, "Whatever it is, it isn't human."

 

"The Wise Man has called everyone back to the village," he explained, glancing over his shoulder where he could see them hurrying about. Fires were be built near the entrance, weapons being gathered, and he could just make out his father, directing their warriors into position and civilians back to their homes.

 

Ji-can suddenly moved. "There, look!"

 

He jerked his head back and followed where Ji-san was pointing, raising his bow and readying an arrow.

 

Silence fell over them as they waited, tense Stiles could feel the muscles in his arms coiling, but he kept his hands steady and narrowed his eyes, trying to see. A stone wall ran across the field just in front of the trees, and as they watched it began...moving, something black seeming to ooze and crawl between the gaps of the rocks. It briefly grew frantic before fading and going still again.

 

Then suddenly there was a crack and something burst through. A giant creature of some kind, with multiple limbs, scurrying across the ground. Its body looked to be made up of thousands of enormous black worms, wriggling and squirming and rippling across the bulk. The mere sight was revolting. Everywhere it stepped, the ground decayed and seemed to burn away, like the creature was a plague of death that killed anything it touched.

 

Ji-san drew back sharply, gasping. "It's some kind of demon!" he cried.

 

"A demon?" Stiles echoed, looking to him and back.

 

That thing...that was a demon? It was more monstrous than he'd ever imagined.

 

And worse, it was heading right for them.

 

As it moved out of the shadows and into the sun, suddenly it paused, and the worms covering its body peeled back, revealing something underneath. A...a wolf! An enormous black wolf, its body covered in burns and grievous looking wounds. It roared, and the strange worms rose from its bulk, up, up, towards to sky, before crashing back down onto it and burying it beneath them. The things writhed about until the regained their former shape and resumed its approach at greater speed, right towards Yakul.

 

"Run, Yakul, run!" Stiles called, leaning down over the side, but Yakul was frozen, his body shaking but stiff with fear. Frantic, he fired an arrow at the post right by Yakul's head, and that seemed to shock Yakul out of it, the elk pulling back and fleeing just as the creature crashed into the tower's legs.

 

It groaned and cracked, and the creature's form twisted up around the posts and pulled it down. Stiles rocked back as he tried to right his balance, and when the tower fell back he grabbed Ji-san and leapt from the platform, the man letting out a yelp as they crashed into the trees. They caught themselves on the branches, and Stiles groaned as one clipped him in the chest.

 

The tower broke apart and rolled down the cliffside, but the creature was not deterred. Instead it looked down toward the village and crawled over the slope, headed right for it.

 

Stiles felt his heart tighten. "It's going to the village! I've got to stop it!"

 

He jumped down from the branches, and headed up the hill.

 

"Prince Stiles, wait!" he heard Ji-san call, "That thing is cursed! Whatever you do, don't let it touch you!"

 

He nodded and pulled himself onto the rock. "Yakul, come!"

 

The elk obediently came to him and he swung himself onto his back as they leapt down the steep slope, racing through the trees as Stiles worked to keep up and keep the thing in his sights. At some point he overtook it and the next thing he knew it hurled itself out from behind him, and now he was being chased.

 

"Stop!" he cried out to it, "Please, calm your fury!! Whatever you are, god or demon, please! Leave us in peace!"

 

The creature ignored him and continued its pursuit, and he clenched his teeth, anxious and frustrated. How was he supposed to stop it? Why was it even here? Worse, what did it want?

 

Below the village was already preparing itself, and the girls were just within its limits when Stiles and the creature emerged from the forest. Startled, they looked back. The thing halted its chase of Stiles and turned its attention to them, assessing, and then charging.

 

"The monster!" one of them cried.

 

Another girl pushed her along. "Come on, go!"

 

Stiles ran to intercept it. "Stop!" he tried again, "Please, leave us alone! Stop, please! Stop!!"

 

The creature didn't slow down. The girls ran as fast as they could when one of them slipped and fell. The other two stopped and went for her.

 

"Get up!" one cried, as the other tried to help her to her feet. When it didn't seem like they would be quick enough, the first girl drew her blade and moved to defend.

 

Stiles panicked at the thought they'd be killed, and drew an arrow with lightning speed that he fired into the monster's eye. It shrieked in pain and seemed to curl in on itself.

 

"Run!" he screamed at them, and they grabbed the fallen girl and hauled her up and away. Stiles circled back just as the creature's many limbs burst forth and made to grab at him.

 

He urged Yakul faster, watching as the slimy tentacle closed in on him and grabbed his right arm. Wincing, he pulled as hard as he could and managed to rip it away, though the things still clung to his limb. He ignored it and reached for an arrow, drawing back, trying to ignore the sensation of worm-like appendages engulfing his arm. Steady...

 

The effort of trying to reach him left the wolf within it uncovered, and Stiles readied himself as he headed for it. Just as they passed, he let his arrow fly and it sunk itself right between the wolf's eyes, deep into the skull. He readied another, just in case, but the tentacle slackened and seemed to lose whatever force animated them.

 

The wolf's body drooped, hovering on its haunches, the worms melting and crawling away. He brought Yakul around to a halt as he tensed up in pain. The arrow in his hand dropped to the ground while the remnants of the worms on his arm melted as well, burning and searing his flesh and creating a foul stench. The agony shortened his breath and he broke into a sweat, but he steeled himself and lifted his head back up to watch the wolf as it dropped flat onto its side with a crash, going still.

 

He could hear the shouts of the villagers behind him as they rushed about, having witnessed the battle. They called for the Wise Man and hurried towards him.

 

"Stiles!" his father called, reaching him first and gently easing him down from the saddle. "Stiles, are you alright?"

 

"Dad, my arm," he gritted out, grabbing a handful of grass and dirt and smearing it over his burning flesh. His father helped, careful not to touch his skin, while the others hovered around them in concern.

 

"All of you, keep away from him!" Deaton's voice suddenly rang out, cutting through the crowd, "Everyone stay back!"

 

Stiles' father rose to meet him. "What should we do?"

 

"Here, take this," Deaton said, handing him a large gourd, "Slowly pour it over the wound."

 

His father nodded and crouched back by his side. Stiles held out his arm and the liquid hissed and smoked when it hit his skin. He clenched his teeth, grunting.

 

Deaton left them to it and approached the fallen wolf, its chest weakly rising as it rasped its last breaths.

 

"Oh nameless god of rage and hate," Deaton spoke, lowering his head, "I bow to you." He paused in respect before straightening. "A mound shall be built here and funeral rites performed for your passing. May your spirit find peace in death, and bear us no ill will."

 

They all watched anxiously, Stiles taut with anticipation as he leaned against his father's side, who had an arm wrapped carefully around him, both of them waiting.

 

The creature moved its head, but its eyes were sightless.

 

"You humans..." it growled, "You have stolen everything from us. Disgusting creatures...how I hate you. May you suffer...as I have suffered..."

 

Deaton's eyes grew sad, and Stiles' heart clenched. The beast gazed up into the sky, and Stiles could swear he saw, amidst the pain, regret in its eyes, before its whole body slackened and suddenly decayed until nothing remained but its bones.

 

*         *         *         *         *

 

Stiles sat quietly, arm swathed in bandages and listening to the sounds of the night as he patiently watched Deaton read the stones, the elders gathered along the wall. The village outside was quiet and calm, but it was tentative, as he knew they all were anxious as to what the outcome of this day, and Stiles' actions, would be.

 

He tried not to let it bother him, and instead took comfort that the village was safe, no matter his fate.

 

Deaton tossed the stones he'd been holding and they clattered together, sliding across the sheet and colliding with each other. He closed his eyes.

 

"I'm afraid this is very bad," he said, collecting some of them, "The stones tell me the wolf god came from far to the west. He had something inside him, a poison, that drove him mad." He tossed another stone. "A poisonous hatred that consumed his heart and flesh, and turned him into a demon." Deaton lifted his eyes. "Prince Stiles."

 

Stiles straightened. "Yes?"

 

"Show everyone your arm."

 

He nodded and carefully unwound the bandages, peeling away the layers until his flesh was exposed, encircled from wrist to elbow with a gruesome dark purple mark, as though the skin was rotting. There was a sharp intake of breath from the elders.

 

"What's it mean?" one of them inquired softly.

 

Deaton's face was unreadable. "My prince," he spoke, "Are you prepared to hear what fate the stones have foretold for you?"

 

"Yes," he answered, as he finished rewrapping the wound, "I have been since I shot him down."

 

Deaton dipped his head in acknowledgement. "The infection will spread throughout your body, both bone and flesh. It will cause you great pain, before it kills you."

 

Stiles' frowned deepened.

 

One of the elders looked between them. "Is there nothing we can do to stop it?"

 

"The prince was hurt defending the village," another added, "He saved us all."

 

"Do we just sit here and watch him die?"

 

Stiles appreciated their feelings, but he already knew what was coming. He clenched his fists.

 

Deaton shook his head. "You can't alter your, fate, my prince. But, if you wish, you can rise to meet it."

 

Surprised, he looked up.

 

"Look at this," Deaton continued, flipping his sleeves back to reveal his hand. He dropped a small sphere in front of him, roughly the size of a walnut. "This iron ball was found the wolf's remains. It shattered his bones and burned its way deep inside him. This is what turned him into a demon."

 

Stiles gazed at it, amazed. To think something so small caused so much pain.

 

"There is evil at work in the west, Stiles. It's your fate to go there and see what you can with eyes unclouded by hate." Deaton's face softened. "You may even find a way to lift the curse. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes."

 

There was a mournful silence.

 

"We are the last of the Emishi," an elder started, "Five hundred years ago the emperor destroyed our tribe and drove the remnants to the east. We've managed to survive here all these years, but the blood of our people has grown thinner and weaker with each generation. Now our last prince must cut his hair and leave, never to return? Sometimes I think the gods are laughing at us."

 

The others seemed to agree, and it filled Stiles with sorrow as scouted over to the short altar beside him. He picked up the small knife, inspecting it briefly, and sliced off his hair. It drove the finality home, but he didn't waver, setting it down respectfully on the altar. To think he'd always hated long hair.

 

He turned back to Deaton.

 

Deaton bowed his head. "Our laws forbid us from watching you go. Whatever happens now, you are dead to us. Forever."

 

Stiles bowed in return, throat tight, then picked himself up and walked out.

 

"Farewell," Deaton's voiced drifted to him.

 

*         *         *         *        *

 

The streets were empty as he headed home, anyone left wandering about going inside as they all seemed to realize what had passed. With each step he felt more disheartened. These were people he'd known his whole life, people he'd grown up with. This was the place he loved with his whole heart. And now, he would never see it again.

 

When he went inside his house, it was empty. The rooms were dark and quiet, and he almost couldn't believe that just this morning it had been just another day. He could still taste his breakfast.

 

He moved into the washroom and examined his hair. The cut was poor and ragged, as to be expected, and he picked up a knife. Carefully he cut and shaved  what was left until it was much shorter and thus more manageable. He inspected it and had to admit he liked it. One high note in a dark and uncertain future.

 

He then went to his room and gathered what belongings he would need, as well as his sword and bow that had been left there after the battle. He studied the bow, remembering the moment when he'd faced the wolf and sealed it fate, the way his arrow flew before sinking into its head.

 

A wolf god. A real wolf god, a beast of legend, just like he'd always imagined, ever since he was a child. A guardian of the forest, twisted and tainted and full of darkness and contempt that had been intent on destroying the village and killing everyone in it.

 

This was not what he'd imagined at all.

 

He glanced over at his beside table and, with heavy thoughts, withdrew a book from his clothes, the one he'd been reading earlier, carefully placing it down. For years it had been his companion, a well-loved friend. He knew its pages by heart. How he'd wanted to see the ancient gods with his own eyes.

 

He got his wish.

 

Bitter and resigned, he nonetheless ran his hand over the cover. He would not be taking it with.

 

When he was ready to leave and closed the door behind him, he felt his eyes burn but blinked it back. His father...where was he, he wondered. Not that it mattered.

 

Stiles would miss him the most.

 

He found Yakul at the stables and lifted the beam to let him out.

 

"At least you're still with me, my friend," he whispered, stroking the elk's neck.

 

He led him down the road toward the village's exit and was nearing the border when someone called to him.

 

"Stiles."

 

He turned, surprised, as his father came towards him.

 

"Dad...? What are you doing here? It's forbidden..."

 

His words trailed off as his father embraced him tightly.

 

"You think I care about that?" he father said, cupping the back of his head and rubbing the shaved hair, "You are my only son. The laws be damned if they think I would simply let you go without saying goodbye."

 

Stiles' eyes burned. "Dad..."

 

His father squeezed him briefly, then drew back, reaching into his robes. "Here," he pulled something out and offered it, face solemn.

 

Stiles looked down to see a small and beautiful dagger, made of crystal, hung on a cord.

 

"It was your mother's," his father explained, "I hoped to give it to you soon, but this was not the occasion I was envisioning."

 

"From mom...?" He gently reached out, in awe, and took it, bringing it close to his chest. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he smiled. "Thanks, dad."

 

His father returned his smile, eyes tearing, and stroked his cheek. "I have always been proud of you, Stiles. And always will be," his hand moved to grip his shoulder, "Take care."

 

"You too..." He pulled the necklace over his head and turned, swinging back up onto his steed. He offered his father a final look. "Goodbye."

 

Kicking his heels, he sped off into the forest, his chest aching. And though he did not once look back, he could feel his father's eyes burning after him the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could've been been posted yesterday, but I was tired and didn't care. This chapter was actually hard to write because most of the material in it remained more or less the same as the movie, so it felt a little tedious. I don't know how many of you have readers have or haven't seen the movie, so I tried to find a middle ground between under-informative and over-informative. I might decide to tweak it later, but it looks solid to me now. For anyone who may be curious, Stiles is actually 23 in this story, and has technically taken over as the head of the village.
> 
> Again, if you see errors point them out please! I reread my stories multiple times while writing them, but I don't always catch everything.


End file.
